


The True Path

by fawatson



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 19:06:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11110935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fawatson/pseuds/fawatson
Summary: Eurydice in Hades





	The True Path

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompts:**  
>     
> • What was Eurydice told, if anything, when she was summoned from her place in the underworld and given back to Orpheus? What does the story look like from her perspective?
> 
> • Why did Hades and Persephone impose the condition that Orpheus must not look at her? Was it metaphysically necessary in some way, was it a test of his worthiness, was it a trick all along and they never meant to return her to life?
> 
> • Is it completely a good thing for Eurydice to be brought back, for her or for the world in general? I've read versions where she is reluctant to leave the peace of death. Should Orpheus have left well enough alone? Or does bringing her back disturb some balance? 
> 
> • Does Eurydice meet any other shades in the underworld, whether figures from Greek myth or just ordinary people?
> 
> • I find myself wondering what Persephone and Eurydice have to say to each other.... Does Persephone want Eurydice to have the freedom and happiness that she herself was denied? Does she comfort Eurydice when the attempt fails? 
> 
> **Disclaimer:** I do not own these characters and make no profit by them. 
> 
> **Acknowledgements:** Many thanks to my sister for beta reading.
> 
> **Apology:** I inadvertently but  incorrectly wrote something which the recipient did not want (infidelity). Fortunately, the Mod brought it to my attention, and when I edited the story and it still did not satisfy, the Mod persisted, explaining that, yes a kiss does = adultery, so I really ought to change it again. Hopefully the story has now been edited to everyone's satisfaction and I can only apologise again for upsetting my recipient and thank the Mod for her patience and goodwill.

She didn’t exactly refuse to answer the summons. It was more just a _delay_ in responding. The Underworld had not been quite what she expected and Eurydice had been enjoying herself. Once she got to know him better, she discovered Aristaeus was really much more interested in bees than rape, unless, of course, she ran screaming though his orchards disturbing them, which roused all his protective instincts so he came rushing to their defence. He was rather apologetic about the snake. 

Eurydice’s flirtation with Heracles had been quite refreshingly light-hearted. He tried to steal a kiss but she turned away in time. Not that she would have minded. But she had the foresight given to all shades: Orpheus would join her here soon enough, wasting away to death as he mourned her. And he was rather an obsessive man, prone to passionate excess. He would be bound to get upset and an upset Orpheus was definitely to be avoided. She shuddered to remember how he had nagged her over and over that time she wore a dress with a risqué neckline. One simple kiss would not have made her unfaithful; but he would take on as if she’d been to an orgy. Heracles had been very clear: faithfulness was a concept for the living, not spouses separated by death (otherwise who could ever remarry)? But it just wasn’t worth it in her book, not for a man who was far more interested in piling up the kudos of famous feats than winning the heart of a woman – not to mention all she had learned from him about high fashion. Meanwhile, waiting for Orpheus to arrive need not be dull; Eurydice set out to enjoy herself. Companions came and went: staying up late, talking for hours, playing jokes on one another, drinking mead, gossiping about new arrivals. There were lots of parties and she found herself quite popular since Heracles’ attentions – but more importantly: she was the best dressed shade in all Hades.

Not that it was all about sybaritic pleasures. Eurydice had been a young girl in her father’s house before she married: modest and dutifully obedient, circumscribed by her position and sex. Then, as a young wife, she had felt uncertain in her new role, happy enough with it as she revelled in her husband’s adoration, but nonetheless she had sometimes found it a strain trying to live up to the standards of the illustrious Orpheus. Most new wives could find their feet quietly, without fanfare; but she had to do it in the glaring spotlight of his fame. Death had freed her. Whoever heard of a shade having to live up to society’s expectations? 

There were many fascinating people to meet, not a few of whom seemed to appreciate her. Time moved strangely in Hades so that those few short months of her death in life stretched long in the underworld. In short: her life in death had lasted several years by the time Orpheus made his descent. Eurydice had blossomed. Had she lived she would undoubtedly have had at least one child by now (if not several), and would have grown into the role of motherhood. But the dead cannot bring forth new life. Banned from developing into womanhood in traditional ways, her personal growth had taken a different path. Heracles had taught her the useful art of snake charming, but she had been barely able to lift his mighty club, far less swing it in battle. So he had started her with the bow. Once her natural talent revealed itself, Hippolyta had helped her to refine it, before coaxing Theseus into teaching her the sword. Achilles and Hector vied with one another to teach her the spear. 

By the time Orpheus arrived before the throne of Hades, Eurydice was an accomplished warrior and planning to open a school to teach wronged women how to accomplish their _own_ vengeance on their assailants. No longer would they have to rely on the somewhat hit or miss pursuit of the Erinyes (more certain in story than in fact): they could exact justice for themselves. (Eurydice was not above using the play on her own name to market her school.) In short: Eurydice had become a force to be reckoned with in Hell, not a rival to Persephone, but a valued member of the Underworld Court. 

Nonetheless, the sound of Orpheus’ lyre brought all the old memories flooding back. She grimaced and turned back to honing her favourite blade. But the music continued. Orpheus had wooed her with music when she’d been a maiden living in her father’s house. Now he wooed all Hades. Shades crowded near to listen; Cerberus laid his heads at Orpheus’ feet, drooling with pleasure. Even Charon smiled, one tear squeezing from each corner of his dry cynical old eyes, as he leaned on his oar. Almost Hades had broken truce and grasped Orpheus’ soul then and there to keep him in Hell. Barely in time had Persephone reminded him of the promises wrested from him by Apollo not to touch his son before his allotted lifespan was complete. This was a part of myth and legend; it was _meant_. And so Hades summoned Eurydice. Who had delayed but eventually obeyed as shades all must. 

She protested, though. If her return to life was meant, then why had she been granted this glimpse of all she might become? Life with Orpheus meant travelling in his wake: wife of his heart and mother of his children, a destiny which she would have found fulfilling once, but not now that she had grown to shatter that restricted shell of life that was all women were permitted in Ancient Greece. She argued passionately for her own fulfillment, as an individual. _Heroes_ were allowed to choose their own paths; why not heroines? She was reminded that she was _not_ a heroine, but a wife. _That_ was her true path. All that her logic won her was a trick: he must not turn back. 

And so that long difficult journey back to life began, the journey that was to change her forever. Slowly she moved upwards toward the surface of the world, bound to Orpheus by a silken cord, invisible to all eyes save Eurydice’s own. 

With each step, something of what she had become was stripped away: starting with the business skills she had acquired to run her school… her knowledge of sword and spear… her clothes sense. It was _bloody_ painful. The most agonising loss of all: her confidence. And all because that stupid tunnel-visioned man could not _wait_ and must have her returned to him now! Patience was not a virtue in Ancient times. Eurydice vowed if she at least managed to hold onto her memories throughout this dreadful business she would found a school of philosophy that esteemed it beyond all other qualities.

With each step, something of what Eurydice used to be came back to her. That too was surprisingly painful. All the fears and uncertainty of her youth returned, it seemed tenfold, though realistically she understood it was just she had been used to them in life and taken them for granted, and got used to being _without_ them in death, so their return now felt extra burdensome. The pricks she had suffered while learning to weave and sew returned – all at once; her fingers were sore and little droplets of blood marked the path she took. Close to the top of the path, her fertility returned and with it the cramps and bleeding that had so plagued her in life. Then her youthful innocence (oh, joy – to experience the fears and pain of her wedding night – _again!_ ) . Finally, as the mouth of the cave came into sight, that fatal snake bite. 

Eurydice was close to despair by the time Orpheus paused on the threshold to look back. She reached rock bottom when she sprawled at Persephone’s feet, memories intact, but those warrior’s skills she’d worked so hard to acquire since death, now painfully stripped away. 

“It’s a man’s world,” remarked Persephone, wryly, “which means, unfortunately, the rules work in _their_ favour, even here in Hell.”

Grimly determined, in what passed for day in the dark realm, Eurydice practised with spear, bow and arrow, sling, and – especially – sword. During the twilight she wrote, fine sounding tragic phrases to mirror the tragic melodies emanating from her husband’s lips on the world’s surface. The cord which had connected them during that fateful journey had only stretched, not broken. In the world above, Orpheus, lost in mourning, unknowingly sang the verses she composed about her life in the underworld. 

“Are you _quite_ sure you know what you’re doing?” asked Melpomene once when Eurydice was resting, dabbling her hot, tired feet in the Styx after a particularly strenuous practice fight with Hippolyta. 

“Would _you_ want him back if he had done this to you?” retorted Eurydice. 

“For love,” chided Melpomene, “tragic love, lost beyond time.” 

Eurydice simply shrugged. But the next day she abandoned the sword and took up the trumpet. Her poetic phrases took on a certain idyllic air, describing in detail the world she saw round her and its inhabitants, while extolling the virtue of patience. 

“That’s done it,” Thalia said a few days later, coming across Eurydice, ivy wreath adorning her head, polishing her sword. She had not touched it in a week and its blade was quite dull. While she might not want it any longer, she found herself unable to let such a fine weapon deteriorate for lack of a little elbow grease. 

“Zeus wasn’t best pleased to have all the secrets of Hades sung for any to hear.”

“Oh?”

“He loosed his thunderbolt. Humans and animals alike now mourn Orpheus’ loss; and your husband should be joining you even sooner than expected.” 

“Must he – must _they_?”

Thalia looked puzzled. 

“If he was so loved and valued in the world, might he not _stay_ there? Where he is wanted, so he is _not_ missed by his devoted audience.” 

“He is dead, my dear,” replied Thalia gently, “dead for love of _you_. His proper place is with Hades now.”

“But why?” asked Eurydice reasonably. “I do not want him here and when he sees me again, so changed from the simple young woman he married, _he_ will not want _me_. Surely Hades has sufficient citizens to rule already without the need for this one.” 

“What would you propose is done with Orpheus then? ” 

“Could his body not remain where it is, perhaps _preserved_ in some way, so it does not decay?” Eurydice thought about the various pickle recipes she had learned as a girl in her mother’s house. Would it be too bold to offer her old recipe book? 

“While you stay here, writing your poetry, that he hears through the silken cord that binds you together, and continues to sing the secrets of the underworld.” Thalia shook her head although her eyes crinkled in amusement at the thought. “It would never do. Zeus is angered enough already; best not to rile him further.” 

“Then cut the cord,” replied Eurydice. Her words came slowly; she was clearly thinking hard. “You only need his head for song; and if you cut it from him, the cord would be severed and he could go on entertaining the people who loved his music.” 

Thalia expressed her surprise. “This is my nephew whose body you are so cavalierly talking about defiling.” But she also laughed – she did love a good farce and what had begun a tragedy was now shaping up to be the best comedy of all time. 

“Here,” Eurydice gave her old sword one final wipe with an oily rag, before proffering it to the Muse, “it is too heroic for me now.” 

And she dropped a slight curtsy to the chuckling Muse, slung her bow and quiver over her right shoulder, and strode off. 

**Author's Note:**

> **Author’s Notes:**
> 
> • In one version of the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice, Aristaeus becomes enamoured with Eurydice who flees his advances. In her haste she stumbles over a snake which bites her and she dies. Aristaeus was the immortal son of Apollo and Cyrene and patron god of beekeeping. 
> 
> • Heracles is best known for his 12 labours, but he had other adventures. In one, as a penalty for murder he was also made to serve as a slave to Omphale, Queen of Lydia, for a year. She forced him to wear women’s clothes and do women’s work. In Ancient art, Heracles is usually depicted with a club.
> 
> • Melpomene and Thalia are two of the Muses, sisters to Calliope, mother of Orpheus. Melpomene was the Muse of tragedy and one of her emblems was the sword. Thalia was the Muse of comedy and two of her emblems were the ivy wreath and the trumpet. 
> 
> • In one version of the Orpheus and Eurydice myth, Zeus struck Orpheus with lightening to stop him revealing the secrets of the underworld. 
> 
> • After his death the Muses kept Orpheus' head so he could sing to the living forever.


End file.
